


just a moment

by lynnpaper (27beansprouts)



Series: obikin ficlets [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, obikin, the author is sleep deprived and projecting, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27beansprouts/pseuds/lynnpaper
Summary: No arguing. No whining. Obi-Wan isn’t sure whether to be shocked or impressed or turned on. He settles for all.“And no touching me until I say so.”Anakin stills.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: obikin ficlets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129010
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	just a moment

**Author's Note:**

> ohhhh boy they're getting LONGER and RAUNCHIER

The air in the room is still, and he can feel every single particle as if they are suspended in midair. He loses track of time, completely at peace, immersed deep in the Force, submerged in a body of water but still able to breathe.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin calls.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes from where he is meditating in the living room. The sky outside is already dark. _It’s been hours_ , he thinks, recalling that he started sometime before evening.

“I’m coming, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, exhaling slowly.

Anakin emerges from his — their — bedroom, dressed in only a thin tunic and sleep-pants, hair slightly mussed.

“You’ve been meditating for hours,” he says. “Come to bed.” Softly. Patiently. Puppy-dog eyes taking effect.

Obi-Wan can’t help but obey. He stands without a sigh, feeling more rested than he has in weeks. Anakin is still standing in the doorway, and as Obi-Wan’s eyes meet his, Anakin leans his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed and wrapped around his middle. He takes a step backwards into the room, glancing pointedly at Obi-Wan.

With eyes like those and a voice like that, what choice does Obi-Wan have but to yield? His feet move without his consent, and soon he’s standing where Anakin was, looking into the room where Anakin has paused a few metres from him, waiting for him to follow.

“Come to bed,” Anakin repeats. He sounds tired. That’s saying a lot.

Obi-Wan moves towards the bed, where Anakin now rests on his side with his arms stretched out, inviting Obi-Wan to lie between them. He does, but props himself up on one elbow so he can admire the devastatingly attractive Jedi in his bed.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Anakin asks, the barest hint of a smile gracing his lips.

In response, Obi-Wan surges forward, capturing Anakin in a heated kiss, hands roving up his sides and neck and into his hair, not showing the barest hint of fatigue despite it already being late in the evening. Obi-Wan tugs experimentally and Anakin gasps, a soft whine escaping his mouth. It's easy for Obi-Wan to push past his parted lips, coaxing another moan from him, fingers gripping the back of Anakin’s neck almost painfully.

“No,” Anakin says, pushing gently on Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan shifts to the side to lie on the mattress beside Anakin.

“You alright?” Obi-Wan asks worriedly. _Did he do something wrong?_

Anakin reads it in his eyes, his own gaze softening. “Too tired,” he mumbles, pulling Obi-Wan’s arm around himself and nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s side. Obi-Wan relaxes at that, with a soft “okay.” No means no, and they both made it very clear early on that all it would take was a word and they wouldn’t push further, no matter how much one of them wanted it.

“Later,” Anakin suggests, breath warm against Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan replies with a smile, though he feels a twinge of guilt on Anakin’s side of the bond.

“Or tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

There is a pause, and for a split second the air seems to go still in the dim light of the room.

“I love you,” Anakin whispers.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “I love you too.”

Anakin hums contentedly, and lies unmoving save for the rise and fall of his chest. Obi-Wan thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he shivers ever so slightly — little enough to be unnoticeable to an outsider, but Obi-Wan feels the spike of discomfort across the bond.

“Anakin?”

“Cold,” Anakin mumbles, tucking himself further into Obi-Wan’s side.

“You’re lying on the blanket.”

“Too tired to get under it.”

“Are you too tired to get under me?”

Anakin snorts, but makes no move to get up. And _that_ , Obi-Wan thinks, is concrete proof that he really is exhausted.

Obi-Wan sighs, long suffering, and sits up, pulling his arm out of Anakin’s firm grasp. Anakin whines at the loss of heat, and Obi-Wan shushes him. “Scooch,” he says, tugging the covers from under Anakin’s heavy body.

Anakin yelps, nearly falling off the bed.

“Get back here,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin all but rolls back to where Obi-Wan sits, humming contentedly when Obi-Wan drapes the thick blanket over him, and closing his eyes immediately.

“A ’ _thank you_ ’ would be nice,” Obi-Wan says. “Rude.”

Anakin hums again, and Obi-Wan decides that’s the best answer he’s getting tonight.

“You’re welcome,” he says, not unkindly, and shuffles under the blanket beside Anakin.

A heartbeat later, Obi-Wan feels Anakin’s muted presence on the other side of the bond and knows he’s no longer awake. _So quickly_. Meditation can’t replace sleep, so he wills himself to close his eyes, focusing on the steady form beside him, thrumming with life.

* * *

Obi-Wan wakes sometime in the middle of the night in the same position he fell asleep in, not groggy in the slightest. _A result of meditating for hours with no distractions_. As carefully as he can, he extracts his arm from where Anakin lies on it, his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Anakin where he sleeps, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.

With quiet footsteps, Obi-Wan pads to the window, the only source of light in the room.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s voice is hoarse from sleep. He fumbles at the mattress beside him, disoriented as he tries to figure out where Obi-Wan’s warm body has disappeared to.

“I’m here, dear one,” Obi-Wan says softly, not turning around from where he gazes at the speeders whizzing past on their highway lanes. Even in the earliest hours of the morning, the air is lit up with streaks of red, blue, yellow, the buzz of engines muffled by the wall separating them from where he stands.

Anakin opens his eyes blearily and they land on Obi-Wan’s figure, silhouetted in front of the slats of the window.

Obi-Wan hears the mattress shift.

“Come back to bed,” Anakin says.

“Just a moment, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replies, unmoving, hands clasped behind his back.

The sheets rustle again, and then Obi-Wan hears Anakin’s footsteps on the carpeted floor, and two arms slide around his waist — one warm flesh, the other cold metal. Anakin rests his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his lips brushing Obi-Wan’s ear.

“Come back to bed,” he says again, and his voice is so soft, so sweet, bordering on pleading, that there’s no way Obi-Wan can say no.

“Any reason in particular why you’re so eager to get me back in bed with you?” he asks, as he allows Anakin to lead him back by the hand. He can’t see Anakin’s face in the dark, but he hears the smile in Anakin’s voice when he replies “No reason at all.”

That is a lie, of course.

“No reason at all?” Obi-Wan echoes. Anakin isn’t shielding. Obi-Wan can feel his arousal rolling down the bond in waves.

“You’re projecting,” Obi-Wan says softly, smiling.

Anakin looks at him with the most innocent expression he’s ever seen. “Sorry, Master,” he murmurs, teasing, and Obi-Wan swears his voice is huskier than it was a minute ago. “I wasn’t aware.”

 _That’s a terrible excuse_ , Obi-Wan thinks. Anakin hears it loud and clear, and a spark of mirth flashes down the bond.

“You don’t seem very tired,” Obi-Wan observes.

“I _was_ tired,” Anakin points out, turning to face Obi-Wan and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Then you woke me up, and now I’m wide awake.”

“I did not wake you up.”

“You did. Not very gentle getting off the bed to stand in front of a window,” Anakin retorts.

Obi-Wan has a burning temptation to roughly push Anakin onto the mattress where he is, shut him up, kiss him into oblivion, perhaps drag out a few of those lovely little moans. But he does have some semblance of self-control at this time of the morning, so he crosses his arms in front of his chest, glaring at Anakin — who copies him.

They stare at each other almost comically. Anakin is the first to break the silence.

“Since we’re not going back to sleep, can I kiss you?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “That’s a pretty tame request, for your standards.”

“Shut up,” Anakin says, kicking Obi-Wan’s shin with one of his legs which are dangling off the edge of the bed. Obi-Wan doesn’t even wince. Anakin looks up to meet his eyes again. “Really. Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says gently, moving forward to oblige him.

Anakin looks away, and Obi-Wan swears it’s embarrassment which seeps down the bond. “Sorry. I just thought — because I said no, earlier — that you might not want —“

Obi-Wan breaks him off with a hand under his chin and a press of his lips against his, lingering for a second before puling away.

“You have no reason to apologise,” he says, voice soft and oh-so-tender. Anakin wants to melt into him, to be held without having to support himself on his own two legs, to suffocate in all the adoration he holds in his heart for Obi-Wan. He kisses him back, hesitant at first, then fiery and passionate, lips moving in a silent dance, pressed together with bruising force.

It’s almost upsetting that they have to pull apart eventually. “Can I?” Anakin asks, reaching for the front of Obi-Wan’s tunic. Obi-Wan nods as Anakin stands, allowing himself to be divested of the fabric, but grabbing Anakin’s wrists when he tries to pull at his pants.

“No,” Obi-Wan murmurs. “Not yet.”

Anakin retracts his hands. “Okay.”

No arguing. No whining. Obi-Wan isn’t sure whether to be shocked or impressed or turned on. He settles for all.

“And no touching me until I say so.”

Anakin stills, but doesn’t complain. He is behaving unusually well, and Obi-Wan intends to exploit this. Yes, he does feel a little bad for taking advantage of Anakin’s guilt — which, ridiculously, stems from him _not wanting to go any further than a kiss_ because he was _tired_ — but it’s so rare that Anakin ever does as he says that it would be a shame not to make use of it while he can.

Slowly, Obi-Wan corners Anakin against the bed, until the backs of his knees hit the edge and he’s forced to sit, crawling back to give Obi-Wan room. Obi-Wan straddles him across his legs, one of his own on either side, and leans down to kiss him languidly, teasing strokes of his tongue, reaching up with a hand to tilt Anakin’s head to give him better access.

Unlike any other time, Anakin doesn’t push back against Obi-Wan. Instead, he relaxes under the weight of Obi-Wan’s body, allowing Obi-Wan to lick deeper into his mouth, hands almost slipping under his tunic to press flat against his back, until he remembers what Obi-Wan ordered him to do. _No touching_. He’s making the loveliest breathy noises. Obi-Wan could listen to them all night.

“Are you still too tired?” Obi-Wan asks, slipping a hand between them to work at Anakin’s crotch. He’s already hard, he realises, and Anakin only spurs his arousal with a moan against his neck.

“ _No_ ,” he mewls, hips bucking against Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Really?” Obi-Wan murmurs, moving his thigh between Anakin’s legs so he can grind against it. As expected, he does. “Because I seem to recall you're usually more enthusiastic than this.”

“Obi-Wan, please,” Anakin pleads. “Don’t make me beg.” In reality, he _is_ tired, and the urge to wind his fingers into Obi-Wan’s hair is almost overwhelming. But if that’s the price to pay for Obi-Wan’s satisfaction, he’s more than willing to bargain.

Obi-Wan is tempted to remind Anakin that one: he’s already begging, and two: he’s going to end up begging anyway, but he decides to be a little kinder, seeing as Anakin already looks half-fucked, and he’s somehow managed to not touch him yet.

And he _did_ ask nicely.

Planting a kiss on Anakin’s parted lips, Obi-Wan runs his hands slowly down Anakin’s sides, teasing at his waistband. “That’s not a bad idea,” he says, their faces inches apart, trailing a finger down Anakin’s chest as Anakin tries unsuccessfully to breathe normally, all flushed and pretty and halfway to delirium.

Obi-Wan closes the gap between them and Anakin is _so sure_ he’s going to kiss him — but he stops a millimetre away from Anakin’s lips, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair, the other down the front of his pants. Anakin lunges forward in an attempt to capture Obi-Wan’s mouth, but Obi-Wan simply moves away, making a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, as the hand in Anakin’s hair tightens its grip to pull his head back.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin pants. His neck looks so enticing, pulse point throbbing and exposed. Obi-Wan leans down and captures the sensitive flesh between his teeth, sucking roughly, which elicits a sound between a moan and a gasp, ten times prettier than both combined.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says again, and Obi-Wan drags his teeth over his collarbone, nipping the thin layer of skin.

Anakin’s hands clench in the sheets. He’s way past maintaining his dignity at this point. “ _Please, Master_ ,” he begs, and Obi-Wan finally, finally tugs at his pants, motioning for Anakin to take them off. He does.

“Flip over,” Obi-Wan commands, and Anakin can only obey. Through a haze of euphoria, he feels a finger, then two, in him, oiled and stretching him out, rendering his ability to speak completely useless as he whimpers, incomprehensible sounds escaping his mouth. It’s barely been a minute and he’s already shaking with the effort of holding himself up on all fours.

Then Obi-Wan is pushing into him, and he thinks his arms might just give out right then and there. Obi-Wan sets a brutal pace, pushing him flat onto the bed with a hand on his back.

Anakin knows he’s stronger than him. He can break any hold with no more than a thought, mechno hand powerful enough to crush durasteel. But there’s something comforting about allowing himself to slip into submission, and when Obi-Wan captures his wrists in a grip bordering on painful, he lets himself whine with no small amount of vigour, rutting his hips upwards, so full yet desperate for more.

Now, with his arms held behind his back, Anakin doesn’t have any option other than to breathe, forcing air in and out of his lungs, and muster all the willpower he has to not _scream_ with every thrust. There’s a line between ‘very turned on’ and ‘completely fucking gone,’ and Anakin has definitely crossed it. He’s completely pliant beneath Obi-Wan, making the sweetest noises he has ever heard, not even trying to fight back against the way his hands are pinned behind him. And when he comes, barely after five or six thrusts, Obi-Wan decides he will never grow sick of hearing that cry of pleasure, feeling the body beneath him go limp, hips rutting weakly against his own.

Yet he doesn’t stop.

Anakin almost wishes he would.

After all, he does need to breathe, and he can’t really do that when Obi-Wan is still fucking him at a brutal pace, one hand around his neck — the possessiveness of the gesture sends a burst of heat straight down his core — and he’s so overstimulated he’s on the verge of tears.

As quickly as the first passed, Anakin feels the familiar build of pressure in his stomach, and he knows it’s going to utterly _wreck_ him if he comes again like this, with Obi-Wan buried in him showing no signs of pausing for even a second, not even out of plain mercy. The sounds coming out of his mouth aren’t even words — more like guttural moans, mingled with gasping sobs at the never-ending stream of pain and pleasure which courses through him in waves.

As if reading his mind, Obi-Wan leans forward, lips brushing the curve of his ear.

“ _Take it_.”

Such a simple command, so very hard to follow. Not like he has a choice.

The second time he comes, Anakin is so wrung out that he can only whimper, trying so hard to move his hips out from beneath Obi-Wan — who, with every thrust, is still hitting that spot which makes him want to _wail_ — and failing miserably because Obi-Wan has both hands on either side of his waist and is pulling him back onto each time he pounds into him, burying himself so deep Anakin can feel an ache in his abdomen.

He knows, in the back of his mind, that in a few hours he will be so sore he can’t walk straight.

He loses track of how long he lies panting, head in his arms, until Obi-Wan finds his release with a gasp, sinking in to the hilt. Anakin whimpers again because it’s the most he can do in his state, struggling to get air into his lungs.

They lie there for a few moments as their heart rates slow to a more acceptable pace, then Obi-Wan pulls away with a sigh to lie beside Anakin, who, miraculously, still has enough energy to roll over and face Obi-Wan.

“Thank you,” he breathes, eyes closed, a sweet blush spreading over his cheekbones.

If his former padawan could be any more beautiful, Obi-Wan would probably burst into flames. He watches Anakin as he as he squirms a little against the sheets, aftershocks of pleasure still cresting over him, the heave of his chest less dramatic with each passing second. His brow is furrowed and his lips are parted as he moans softly with each shudder of bliss, and that alone is almost enough to get Obi-Wan hard again.

“Your pants aren’t even off,” Anakin mumbles, as if reading his mind, reaching with his mech hand to trace Obi-Wan’s jaw.

“Are you complaining?” Obi-Wan asks, amused. “Shame. You were behaving so well.”

“Are you manipulating me?” Anakin shoots back. “I didn’t even touch you. I deserve a reward for that.”

“Your reward was two orgasms.”

“I deserve three.”

“You’ll _pass out_ with three.”

“Mmm. True.”

Obi-Wan laughs, pulling Anakin into his arms. Anakin stiffens a little, and Obi-Wan frowns. Before he can open his mouth to say anything, Anakin asks “Can I touch you?”

Without a word, Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s hands and places them on his chest, a silent invitation. It’s a little upsetting that Anakin feels like he _owes_ Obi-Wan, for not giving him what he wanted earlier, saying no to a generous offer. 

_You don’t owe me anything_ , Obi-Wan responds down the bond.

“Still feel like I do,” Anakin whispers.

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Obi-Wan repeats, firm but forbearing.

The sky outside is still dark, but Obi-Wan knows it’s sometime early in the morning, and it’s not worth going back to sleep only to wake up again in a couple of hours.

Right on cue, Anakin mumbles, “Not tired enough to sleep.”

Obi-Wan pulls him closer. “We don’t have to sleep.”

Anakin looks up at him hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Obi-Wan huffs. Anakin grins, kissing a lazy trail along his jaw, more for his own leisure than Obi-Wan’s.

“Should we get up?” Anakin asks, rolling onto his back to face the ceiling.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Just a moment.”

“Okay,” Anakin says, and snuggles closer.

They don't remember moments ever being so long, but who are they to complain?

**Author's Note:**

> I MIXED IMPERIAL AND METRIC MEASUREMENTS WHAT PUNISHMENT DO I DESERVE
> 
> anyway i finished that 3 pound tub of yogurt and i'm now on my second 
> 
> (find me on tumblr as [lynnpaper](https://lynnpaper.tumblr.com/)!)


End file.
